


Saturated Sunrise

by Amburrito



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, How Do I Tag, Hurt No Comfort, I have No Excuse, Poor Prompto Argentum, Post-Canon, Prompto Argentum Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-27
Updated: 2019-05-27
Packaged: 2020-03-20 13:32:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18993628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amburrito/pseuds/Amburrito
Summary: The battle was over. The war was over. Everything was over.  The good guys won. The prophecy completed down to every last detail.So why couldn't the tears stop? Everything was fine.He was always good at lying to himself.





	Saturated Sunrise

**_You were a vision in the morning when the light came through._ **

The first rays of dawn were beautiful and devastated everything in their path.

Prompto scarcely took a single breath as those first rays started to dance across the horizon before lighting up the absolute destruction around him. The colors were setting the very sky ablaze in yellows and oranges and reds( _ ~~the color of blood; Noctis's royal blood. He died for this sunrise, and you let him walk to his death.~~_ ) The sun was finally rising after ten long years, but Insomnia was still destroyed. The stairs that they all had walked down a decade ago were all chipped and cracked. There were decorative columns that had fallen at some point and were nothing but dents in the concrete and gravel and dust. The entire city smelt of gunpowder and the sickly-sweet scent of rot. The toxic mixture sat on the back of the tongue, making swallowing difficult. It almost tasted like bile.

Prompto raised his hand to keep his eyes from watering from the bright light. Traitorous little things watered anyway. It was just from the first sunrise in a decade. He just wasn't used to it, is all.

The battle was over. The war was over. Everything was over. The good guys won. The prophecy completed down to _every last detail_.

So why couldn't the tears stop? _Everything was fine_.

He was always good at lying to himself.

No one spoke as the sun started it's long delayed climb across the expanse above them. The only sounds had been the dying wails of red giants, followed by the distinct sound of metal meeting concrete, and leaden footsteps clomping away.

Gladio was angry, Prompto knew it in his bones. Gladio had been taught his entire life that his blood was worth less than his king's, and he should gladly throw himself in danger's way to protect his charge.

His _king_.

His _brother_.

**_Noct_**.

Prompto couldn't fight the burning pressure building behind his eyes or the lump that formed in his throat. It felt like it was choking him. Maybe it'd be less painful if it was. He tried to keep quiet, and let the warm light wash away his sins. His pain. His regrets.

Even burying his teeth in his bottom lip did nothing to stifle the sob that clawed it's way out of his traitorous throat. He slid slowly down to his knees, and let go.

The tears scalded their way through the grime, burning his cheeks as they trailed down to his jaw before falling onto his tattered uniform. The uniform Ignis had put so much time and effort into.

The thought made him sob harder. He ruined all of Ignis's hard work. The once flawless uniform was now unsalvageable. Slashes and burns criss-crossed along nearly every inch of space. On his sleeves there were scorch marks and holes from the casings of his ammunition. His back he knew had a charred gaping cut down the middle of the spine, straight through the carefully crafted emblem of the glaive. There was dirt and sweat and grime imbedded in the fabric. Blood, sluggishly seeping from negligible wounds, only to be absorbed into the rich cloth. _Gods_ , this ensemble probably cost more Gil than Prompto had ever earned in his life. And he destroyed it.

Careful footsteps approached him from behind. Prompto didn't bother looking over his shoulder. He knew that cadence of steps. A warm hand landed on his shoulder and squeezed.

“Iggy…” he choked.

“Hush.” Ignis whispered.

He obeyed.

Prompto nearly died ~~before Noct fulfilled his calling~~ \- _no don't **say** that_\- before the sun finally rose again. He had been reloading his gun with clumsy fingers, backing up Gladio against the giant currently attempting to turn him into little more than a red smear on the pavement. He had been so afraid of Gladio going down, he hadn't heard the other giant turn away from Ignis. The pain had been instant and red hot in his back and he crumpled like an old paper doll. The gun clattered uselessly away from his hand and he was so sure he was about to die. He couldn't move; he knew the blow had crushed, if not severed his spine. He couldn't even get his fingers to so much as twitch let alone reach into his breast pocket to pull out the pheonix down. The ringing in his ears seemed to only be rivalled by the pounding of his heart. Breathing was next to impossible. He coughed and something thick and wet spilled over his chin. He tasted iron, and he knew that his last few moments would be spent choking on his own blood. What a way to go.

He was lucky that Ignis had heard him go down and rushed past the demon. He had no idea what had stopped the daemon from finishing him off, but Ignis had been there, pressing a feather into the gaping maw of his wound. The warmth washed over him and set his teeth on edge as he felt muscles reknit themselves and bones reform and move back in place. Pheonix downs may revive you fully, but it was never pleasant. It seemed like every time was worse than the last. But who was he to complain? He was alive. Breathing again.

Thanks to Iggy. Add it to the list of things he'd never be able to repay. A uniform, a second- ~~ _a third a fourth a fifth a sixth_~~ \- chance at life, and now, a silent sentinel. His hand heavy but unwavering from his bruised shoulder, his thumb gently touching the fraying fabric. By the _Six_ , he owed him so much, and yet instead of even a simple word of thanks, all he could do was hiccup and shake.

The sobs still hurt on their way out. The tears still hurt in his eyes. Gods above, _everything hurt_. His chest felt like one of the red giants they had just killed had reached into his ribcage and scooped out everything in one of those humongous hands. He felt cavernous. He felt _empty_. Who knew emptiness could hurt so bad?

He heard Gladio approaching. Large. Angry. Stubborn. A sword calloused hand grasped his other shoulder and squeezed hard. _Just_ on this side of pain. He knew without looking that Gladio's other arm was on Ignis. He knew all of them were crying. And no one said a word about it. Small blessings.

They all held each other in the dawn, holding on to the only things they had left.

The first rays of dawn were beautiful and devastated everything in their path.

**Author's Note:**

> My first attempt at fic in over ten years. Do be gentle.


End file.
